


Autumn Suite: A Story in Five Movements

by luxartisan



Category: Blood+
Genre: Angst, F/M, Non-Explicit, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxartisan/pseuds/luxartisan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened between the opera house debacle and Kai bringing Saya to the crypt? Inequities are outed so true relationship may commence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**_First Movement_ **

**_Prelude ~ A preface to another work; it may stand on its own merit._ **

A steady October rain falls, its patter mixing with the hard rock that blasts through Café Omoro. They've been at it non-stop for weeks, getting the place back into shape with paint and new décor. Saya's small circle of friends and Kai's street buddies make for a motley crew that somehow mixes well, laughter and snide remarks blending to create a strange medley. Tonight Kai prepares dinner and everyone compliments the new owner-chef.

Saya collects utensils, glasses and plates onto the basket tray and carries them behind the counter. Kai is at the sink, a model of efficiency as he cleans up. His shock of brown hair has gotten longer, but he carries the mussed style well. He's singing to himself as the radio on the shelf pumps a heavy backbeat. He matches his movements to the rhythm. She smiles to herself, but he sees her.

"What?" he demands in mock annoyance.

"Not a thing," she demurs, setting the basket on the counter.

"Help me finish up, then." He snaps a drying towel in her direction.

She throws him a sidelong glance. "Don't I always?"

After the last person waves good night, she secures the cleaning supplies in the closet. She looks at herself in the full-length mirror mounted there. Faded jeans are still a staple but she pairs it with a white tee and scarf. The outfit makes her look older, but she wonders if she'll actually attend college. Red Shield has offered to cover her tuition, but it's a gesture.

Her Sleep is imminent.

Saya sets a table for two at the rear of the café and takes a seat, journal in hand. She writes every day, committing to paper everything she knows about her life. Sometimes it's about the past, sometimes the present, but never the future. She can't bring herself to imagine a life without the people she's come to love not being around her.

The back door slams and the tap runs followed by the sounds of tea being prepared. It's their ritual. She logs another entry. Kai promises he'll keep her jottings safe. When she next awakens, she will read in her own words about who she is and the people who mean the most. She doesn't want anyone else's version of things, especially her memories of Hagi. She clings to the slim hope that he somehow escaped, but she dare not call for him and face the reality of his demise. Instead, she focuses on recording her memories, but living Life to the fullest as Dad would have wanted them to do. She's in school, Kai runs Omoro. Diva's twins are with them and growing at an accelerated pace. No one knows what the future holds for them.

No one but Kai. His turnabout from misunderstood bad boy to responsible caregiver has been nothing short of amazing. At 21, he's ready to run Omoro and with Lulu's enthusiastic help, is caring for the girls. He's stepped into a consultation role with Red Shield as they negotiate with the U.S. government to fund humanitarian research into Chiropterans and Chiro-human hybrids – or so they claim. Diva may be dead, but both creatures are still in the world, wild cards in the poker game of politics.

She scans her last entry - the one about first meeting Hagi at The Zoo. As often as she tries not to think of him, she's drawn to his memory and his parting words. He was her oldest friend and her protector. His formality had always been a little much for her liking, but she accepted it as his way. After speaking with young Joel and reading The Diary, she realized that his consideration of her was more than platonic. He became different in her eyes then, and her familial feelings began to fade as others took hold. She wonders how much of Joel Sr.'s plans Hagi knew. Now, she will never know. They'd spent over a century committed to tracking and destroying Diva, unaware that at the moment they completed their mission, they'd be parted. His confession of love remains branded into her heart, the one that has only just come to understand how much she cared for him. She lives in a tragic fairy tale without a happy ending.

"Earth to Saya. Where are you?" Kai's voice intrudes on her thoughts and she appreciates the interruption. She blinks a few times before closing the journal and looking up. Kai sets down a bamboo tray laden with tea and a plate of sweet rice cakes. He removes his apron, folding it over the back of a chair before sitting down. Saya pours for them both.

"You okay?" Kai says.

Saya gives a small smile. "I'm fine. These look great."

"Have at it, girl. I made them just for you."

"Only if you have one, too."

"Ahhh, you talked me into it," he says before lifting a cake to his mouth with his fingers and finishing it in two bites.

She shakes her head at him. "Kai, don't be rude. Use a fork or a spoon or something."

"Fingers are something," he says while dropping several sugar bears into his cup. "So, what's up today?"

Saya's grateful for the opportunity to discuss mundane things. Ordinary is her haven in an extraordinary life. She sips her tea and savors the flavor.

"Not much. I have tickets for Culture Day. They gave us three each. That's not going to be enough."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure everybody gets to go."

"It's not that simple. You can't just crash."

"I have connections." He gives her a wink.

She chuckles. "And just how are your _connections_ doing?"

"She's fine." They're talking about Mao, of course. Mao, with her crazy gangster relatives that she wants no part of until she needs a favor or money or both. Mao, who plays both ends against the middle, or more like Okamura against Kai. Mao, an acquaintance who became a friend.

Kai stretches out his arms and rolls his neck, eliciting audible cracks. He lets out a breath of air through pursed lips. "Man, I'm beat."

Saya considers her sibling. "We could put off the re-opening, you know. Give ourselves some extra time. Take a day off?"

" _Our-_ selves?"

"Fine. You could give _yourself_ a day off."

"What for?"

"I don't know. Shopping, a baseball game, a barbecue? You could take Mao on a real date."

His expression shifts into sudden seriousness. "You know how I feel, Saya."

"Kai, it's time you made up your mind about her."

"Fish or cut bait, right? I know, I know." Kai runs a hand through his hair. He's about to say something, then pauses.

Saya fills in the awkward silence. "She'll be off to college in the U.S. soon enough…" Saya's voice trails off.

Kai grumbles, "Don't remind me."

"You were the one who told her she should apply there. A few schools at home accepted her, too. Maybe she'll change her plans. You know Mao."

"Yeah. She follows her own lead. Always has."

"So do you. That's why you get along."

"We don't get along."

"Didn't look that way to me the other day."

"Yeah," he admits. "It's…complicated." She waits and he capitulates. "Besides, college might be out of the picture."

"What do you mean?"

He averts his face as Saya props an elbow on the table and leans her chin into it staring at her brother's profile. He's gotten older, his boyish face showing adult worry.

"It's fine. I have others things to take care of, anyway."

"Such as?" The edge in her tone forces him to look at her.

Staring into her eyes, his brows arch and he leans forward. Saya looks away. Kai's feelings towards her have always been complex. Her brother in every way but biological, she's aware that his fraternal feelings are genuine, but also that he harbors a deeper sentiment for her. And no one knows how much longer she can sustain alertness. The ambulance has been to her school more than once after she's collapsed. Still, she's determined to stay awake for as long as possible. She has other things to consider, too.

His discomfiture with the discussion is evident as he stands. "I'm going for a walk," he says gruffly before standing. Saya brushes a stray lock of hair away from her face and stares into her half-full teacup.

"Hey," Kai calls to her, his attitude and voice softened. Saya looks up to see him at the entrance to the café, door ajar. "Nankurunaisa, huh?" They hold one another's gaze, bonded by sorrow and hope.

"Yeah," she replies in a soft voice. "Nankurunaisa."


	2. Allemande

**Second Movement**

**Allemande ~ A dance with arms interlaced, performed at a steady pace.**

It's late autumn, but the days of blistering heat have only just begun to ease. Afternoon sunlight streams through the trees casting dappled shadows over the benches where Saya and Kaori sit, sharing cold drinks after school.

"It feels like a hundred degrees out here," Kaori says with a pout. "Good thing Culture Day is being hosted at the Civic Center. They have air conditioning there."

"Yeah, it's a good thing," Saya agrees before taking another long sip from her beverage. "Did you get any more tickets?"

"Just a few. It'll be my mom and dad, my brothers and Uncle Jin. Haru wanted to come in from Kyushu, but her job wouldn't give her time off, the stinkers. The rest of the family will come to the house afterwards."

"Just a few, huh?" Saya teases.

"Yeah, just immediate family. How 'bout you?"

"The usual suspects."

"So that means Kai, right? And he'll have to wear a suit?"

"I guess so. Why?"

"Only 'cause guys look hot in suits and Kai is already dreamy so I'm thinking he'll look doubly good all dressed up."

Saya giggles. "Kai is dreamy?"

"Well, sure. C'mon. I know you're his sister and all but don't tell me you don't know that your brother's a hottie."

"I'll be sure to tell him to wear a tie, then." She's amused by her friend's blatant nature. Kaori has matured a bit and though still impetuous, she's sweet-natured.

"Oh my God. I'll die." With that Kaori pretends to swoon, slumping against Saya until her head is in Saya's lap with her face to the sky.

Saya looks down at her and presses an index finger to her friend's forehead. "You," she proclaims, "Are certifiably crazy. You know that?" Kaori reaches with a free hand to tickle Saya in the ribs who slaps it away. They share a comfortable camaraderie but Saya wonders who, if any, of her schoolmates will still be in Koza the next time she reawakens.

"Do you remember the first time we met, Saya? You were new…well, so was I but you didn't know _anybody_ and nobody knew who you were." Kaori clamps a hand over her heart with exaggerated drama. "That moron, Daisuke, had just told me he liked somebody else and I was sitting right here crying my eyes out."

"Mmmmm. I remember. I asked you what was wrong and you said…."

"Everything!" they chime as one and laugh.

Kaori sits up. "I was such an idiot. Imagine me and Daisuke ever being in true love. I was so naïve. Now, Kiyoshi, on the other hand – he might just be the One."

"At least you had a boy notice you in high school. I never did."

"I don't know why not. You're pretty, you're smart and you're a great athlete. Boys are just dumb."

"Well, I was absent a lot and I am kind of shy. Romance just isn't something I'm good at, I guess."

"Well, _I_ just know you're going to meet someone fabulous in college and be swept away in a passionate whirlwind."

"Maybe." Saya sighs aloud and looks across the yard to where the mature fukugi tree used to stand, now a stump covered with new growth. Memories begin to crowd in. "I have to go," she tells her friend while standing up. "My Brother-the-Hottie needs me to unpack boxes."

"Send my love," Kaori teases as Saya turns with a wave of her hand. "Don't forget 'Seventh Heaven' tonight."

"Got it," Saya tosses over her shoulder.

She walks the same route home she's followed for the last three years, or almost three if you discount the time she lost fighting Chiropterans worldwide. She's almost done with high school. Some of her classmates graduated early, heading off to universities in the U.S. or other parts of the world. Some would attend college at home in the spring. The rest would go to cram school or pound the pavement looking for work.

Everyone was excited to be moving on with their lives - everyone but Saya. Dr. Julia keeps telling her it's a miracle she's still standing and for awhile, Saya willed herself to stay strong for the babies. They are her reason to live, with Hagi gone. But she knows time is short. She's weakening daily and fatigues easily. Kai watches watch over her like a mother hen over a wayward chick.

The heat is merciless and she appreciates the blast of cold air that rushes past her as she enters Omoro. Kai does love air conditioning even though it costs them dearly. Throwing her book bag on a nearby chair, she scans the front page of the newspaper lying on the counter. The news is all about Chiropterans these days and often not in a good way.

"Hey there," Kai greets from where he works at his desk. "How'd practice go?"

"Fine," she replies without looking up. "I got the extra tickets we need so we're all good."

"I'll call David and tell him."

"Where's Lulu and the girls?"

"At the park, I think."

"It'll be quiet upstairs then. Think I'll take a nap."

"Saya…" She hears the concern in his voice and looks up. That worried look is in his eyes again.

"I'm fine, Kai. Just need a little rest is all." She unpacks her o-bento box and leaves it by the sink. She feels his eyes following her until she's in the stairwell.

Air conditioning is only run in the café, so the apartment is steamy, even with the windows open. Saya leaves her sweaty uniform on her bed and showers, letting the tepid water wash over her. She throws on a sleepshirt and lays down.  _Just for a few minutes,_ she thinks, but she's asleep before her head hits the pillow.

Normal awakening has become more difficult than ever. Rising towards consciousness in slow stages, she's often unable to distinguish between reality, dreams and memories. They are all wispy threads that interweave into a fabric of pleasure and pain. When at last her eyes open, it's dark and the air is cooler as a sea breeze wafts inland. The clock reads 10 p.m. and her stomach is rumbling. Darn Kai _._ He didn't even wake her for dinner.

She splashes water on her face and brushes her hair. No more sleeping _._ She pulls on the dress Kai gave her for her birthday – a sleeveless gauzy a-line with a single ruffle at the hem and a cluster of loosely gathered fabric roses to one side of the scoop neckline. The unfitted style is atypical for her, but she likes the mauve color and the lightness of the fabric. Besides, it was from Kai. Slipping on a pair of flat sandals, she grabs her bolero and wristlet before leaving the bedroom. Lulu is watching television in the living room but looks up with a smile when Saya enters.

"Hi, Saya. How are you feeling?" Her cheerfulness is a tonic.

"Better now," she responds in truth. "Girls asleep?"

"Like babies," she jokes and they smile in unison.

Saya heads to the nursery with Lulu in tow. The twins are settled with their feet at opposite ends of the crib, their faces close together. Gazing at them in innocent slumber Saya muses, "Do you think Diva and I could have been this close?"

"Sure - if things had been different," Lulu says with sincerity.

Saya makes a small sound of consideration and runs her hand through the sleep-dampened curls that cover each child's head – brunette and auburn. They're fraternal twins like Diva and herself. Their emerging personalities are different, too. Emi is boisterous and adventurous; Eri quieter and timid. Lulu calls them "Emeri" when she wants both to do something at the same time. Lulu herself has become an indispensable part of their family.

She gives the small Schiff a hug. "Tell Kai I'm going out with Kaori tonight, ok? No need to wait up." She heads downstairs and checks the fridge. Only leftovers, but her grumbling stomach must be satisfied. She finishes off two portions, cleans up and heads out the door.


	3. Courrante

**Third Movement**

**Courrante ~ A short dance filled with advances and retreats.**

Saya takes the public bus into central Koza. Cutting edge music is one of the city's claims to fame and Saya enjoys mingling with the noisy crowds of musicians and their devotees. Kaori's new boyfriend is one such fan and she promised her friend she'd join them for awhile.

The club, Seventh Heaven, is a cacophony of sound and colored lights. Saya finds Kaori and Kiyoshi at a tiny table sharing a beer. Kaori gets up when she sees her and throws her arms around her. "I'm soooo happy you're here, Saya."

"Kaori, how many have you had?"

"Not enough," she says with a shrug before sitting back down beside the boy with lime-streaked hair. Kaori pats the seat of the chair beside her. Saya sits down with a sigh. Kaori isn't old enough to drink and Saya's worried. Conversation is impossible and, worst of all, the band is just a cover group that doesn't even try to sound like the original artist.

She stays, making small talk between sets, until the smoke-filled room burns her eyes. "I'm gonna go," she shouts into her friend's ear. Kaori blows her a kiss. Saya puts on her jacket against the night air and stands beneath the club's sign, enjoying the relative quiet of the street. Nightlife in Koza is anything but dull, but she isn't in the mood.

"Must be fate," a pleasant voice says beside her. Saya turns and looks into a very nice pair of hazel eyes. His short dark hair and eyeglasses accentuate his eye color. It's a boy she vaguely remembers as having graduated a year or so before her class.

"Do I know you?" she asks to be polite.

"Shiroma Jirou - second son and all that," he says with a flourish of his hand.

"Otonashi Saya."

"Right. I remember you. The new girl some of the guys used to talk about."

She's taken aback. "Guys were talking about me?"

He puts up both hands, side by side, palms facing Saya. "Please, don't be offended. I mean, they're guys, right?" He drops a hand while turning the other sideways, palm downward. "Conversational short list: sports, food, girls." He raises the bar with each category, but keeps switching the top two topics in priority. Saya chortles and he exhibits a broad smile. She decides he's nice, not creepy.

"Oh, okay."

"So…would you like anything from the bar or the kitchen?" he asks.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Alright. We can just talk."

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

"Smart lady and very pretty. Yes, we are."

Jirou chats with her about life in college, his part-time job and his obsession with cars. Her responses are non-committal, at best. He's an average guy with kind eyes and a sincere manner that's disarming. She doesn't intend to lead him on but it's pleasant to pretend she's an ordinary girl flirting with an ordinary boy. Still, her mind keeps wandering.

"…what's the plan?"

"The plan?" She blushes. She hasn't been paying attention.

"Yeah, your plan…for the future?" He cocks his head to one side and Saya decides he's actually cute. She smiles to herself, drawing her hair behind one ear and looks down. She looks up again and he's just watching her, waiting for an answer.

"My plan for the future," she begins and pauses.

"Yes?" Jirou prompts drawing out the word.

"Is – uncertain." Her tone is more serious than intended.

His brow wrinkles. "What do you mean?"

No matter what she says, it will be a lie. How can she consider the future when it's decades away? Acquaintances, friends, family – all of them will be changed or gone some day while she remains the sole grieving party. She can't imagine the loneliness that lies beyond.

She notices another bus approaching and glances at her watch. "I'm sorry," she tells him. "I have to meet someone." She excuses herself in hurried fashion and quick-steps to the curb and across the street. He calls after her, but she doesn't stop. She boards the bus without knowing its destination. Finding a seat, she stares out the window and tries to clear her mind of the emotions that grip her.

The bus takes an off ramp and heads towards the beachfront. She stays on until she sees familiar landmarks. She disembarks at the entertainment pier complex. The windows of the restaurants glow and couples are strolling the walkway that parallels the shoreline. Saya descends the public steps, takes off her sandals and heads towards the water.

The sand is cool under her feet as she begins walking the line of sea foam wending before her. Moonlight shimmers on the surface of the ocean as it laps the shore in small, quick waves. Low tide exposes kelp, shells and other things otherwise unseen. Saya stops and pushes her toes into the wet sand, steps back and watches the impressions disappear as a wave rushes over them. Just like me.

She stands there, thinking of nothing at all until she's calmer. She continues walking until she's looking up at what Riku always called The Singing Rock. Here, at the foot of the towering karst form, is where they used to have their picnics. Here is where Kai taught her how to do a handstand, where Riku lost a tooth and where her father, George, would sit with them, telling stories or making them laugh.

She notes the public steps that ascend to the roadway and picks out the place where she once saw Hagi playing his cello. She misses his music. It was always evocative for her - a path back to herself. Who will do that for her now? She recalls the sonorous timbre of the mellow instrument playing a familiar piece. It seems so real to her. So _….real_. Her brows knit and she focuses on listening for sounds humans can't discern as readily.

She turns to look in the direction of the family crypt tucked up into the lush Okinawa greenery. "No," she whispers to herself and shakes her head. She won't deceive herself. It could be her imagination, even a radio. The music is soft in the distance, nearly indistinguishable as the sea continues its endless love song to the shore. She slides into her shoes and forces herself to walk at a steady pace towards where the music seems to emanate, but her heart refuses to cooperate as it doubles in tempo.


	4. Chapter 4

**Fourth Movement**

**Sarabande ~ a stately dance; sometimes considered seductive.**

It's well past midnight and only an occasional car passes Saya as she makes her way along the inside shoulder of the highway. To her left is Okinawa's western coastline, scenic and serene.

She reaches the base of the limestone staircase that rises steeply into the foliage until it vanishes. A new melody has begun and it's not a recording. She looks at the steps, uncertain if she can make it to the top. Then she hears Dad's voice in her mind, 'Never give up, Saya; no matter what. If there's something you want, go for it.' Her emotions are a tangle but she proceeds, determined and anxious and hopeful all at the same time.

The climb is easy at first, but grows more difficult with each landing. Her stamina isn't what it used to be and she pauses periodically to catch her breath and allow the burning in her legs to ease before going on. The music stops and the top of the staircase is still a flight away. Gathering her strength, she pushes herself to reach it. There she pauses. Panting from her ascent, she scans the empty courtyard. With disappointment heavy in her heart, she heads to the peace garden behind the crypt, the family gazebo at its center. She takes only a step or two towards it before a dizzying wave overcomes her.

.....

First, there is nothing. Then… _tintype views of her childhood with Joel Sr.…a vision of Kai and the twins dressed in red changing into deformed Chiropterans that she and Hagi battle…Riku playing catch with Dad…Mao handing her Culture Day tickets…Omoro…Diva laughing at her with scorn_ …then nothing again.

Presently, she becomes aware of being carried by a figure she intuits as safe. Turning towards the warmth it radiates, she feels it draw her closer. She senses her right arm lying limp on her chest, her left arm tucked beside her body. Her entire left side, in fact, is nestled against the warmth that carries her. She surrenders to it and listens to the muffled sound of the sea, the rustling of foraging night creatures and the eerie whoosh of an owl flying overhead.

Movement stops and the figure gains solidity. Saya slides her right hand upward, encountering the smoothness of fine woolen fabric. It continues on until it feels a steady beat beneath her hand. Her lids are still heavy but she discerns her hand resting against a masculine chest. A scant upward shift of vision reveals the edge of white collar beneath a dark jacket.

Her dreams are often of him and this may just be another. A hand threads through the longer hair at the back of her neck, thumb coming to rest on the pulse point just under her jaw. She notes the strength of the arm that supports her, a familiar feel in the way they fit together.

"Hagi," she breathes, prepared to awaken and find herself alone. Instead, she hears her name murmured, like prayer. Hearing the voice she's missed for so long sends a shiver through her. She lifts the hand that lay over his heart, her gaze matching its rise until she presses her palm against the side of his face, afraid the apparition will vanish into thin air. The feel of his warm breath and soft lips against her palm makes her imagine they are elsewhere.

"Are you real?" she whispers to the face that turns towards hers.

"Of course," he whispers in return. Of course?

"Where have you been?" She doesn't mean to sound a bit miffed, but she's emotional and tired and can't decide whether she wants to kiss him or slap him.

"Saya." He's surprised by her attitude.

"Don't," she warns quietly.

"What is it I should not do?"

"Don't use that tone with me." She disentangles herself from him and stands on her own two feet.

"What are you talking about?" He's confused.

The gazebo is a place she knows well, just like the face that is slightly below hers, seated on the worn divan in front of her. The moon has risen above the tree line and sylvan light pours through the glass walls and conical roof. Yet even in that dim light, his blue eyes are just as she remembers them – clear, steady and focused on her. He is home again, at last.

"Where have you been?" she repeats in a voice just above a whisper, all anger drained from her upon seeing him entire. His slim, dark figure sits before her. She regrets leaving his arms.

"Forgive me, but my recovery took longer than expected." He stands and she takes a step back, attuned to every movement he makes.

"How badly were you hurt?" she asks as he passes by her. She knows it was bad if it's taken this long for him to return and it pains her to imagine his suffering.

"I recovered," he says stiffly. She closes her eyes and hates herself for being cross with him. She steps towards the divan and sits down heavily. "Shall I play something for you?" It's his usual peace offering but his tone is not as cold. _Respectful, as always._ But she does want to hear him play again.

"The C minor Bach, please. You play it so beautifully." Her attempt to mollify falls flat. His expression is unreadable in the pale lighting of the night. Saya looks about as Hagi retrieves his cello. The gazebo is a retreat where the family would gather following visits to the crypt. A wrought iron table and some chairs are stacked to one side. The wide upholstered divan on which she rests is worn, its plush tufting threadbare in places, but comfortable.

She turns onto her side, resting her head on a large toss pillow set at the raised end of the divan and pulls up her knees, dropping her wristlet to the floor. She watches him prepare. She's seen Hagi do this countless times, but she's never paid attention. For her, music is diversion, a lesson to be learned, something they shared when they were younger. For him, the cello is necessity, an outlet in which he outperformed his teacher in both quality and style. His movements when he is with his cello differ from his actions in battle when the cello case becomes a shield or blunt force weapon. In combat, he is dark vengeance and fire. With cello, he is grace and air.

The prelude begins and she notices, really notices, the change that sweeps over him. The longing and sadness he has kept hidden from her these long years is all too obvious, enmeshed in the music of this, the darkest of the cello suites. He is elsewhere, within himself, with only his thoughts. Of what, she can only imagine: memories of an abusive childhood before he arrived at The Zoo; time spent under the strict rule of the Goldschmidts' regimen and so much time spent alone as he walked the streets of times and places of which he alone knows and remembers while she Slept.

Loneliness has been his companion much longer than she. How can she even begin to know what it's been like for him? Her heart squeezes. She's loved him as a friend for so long, yet he's the only man she ever imagines herself with any other way. Solomon Goldsmith's romantic gestures were overt, untrustworthy and left her cold while Hagi, even at his quietest and in his most unobtrusive way, has made himself an irreplaceable person in her heart.

The fugue-like passage begins; and Saya sits up and leans forward, studying him with new eyes. He was bony as a boy, undernourished. Maturity and circumstance have made him healthy, lean and muscular. She recalls how he looked when they traveled to Pokrovskoe, her self-righteousness masking her heightened awareness of his naked torso and the effect it had on her. Now, she watches the tensile fluidity of his arms and shoulders hidden by his garments and imagines how they might look unclothed once more. Her cheeks color, though not from shyness.

His Chiropteran hand is bandaged, but remains unhampered to bow.  Damn her rage-induced stupidity. Hagi was gifted and might have been a professional instead of a street musician had he not been maimed him in Vietnam. Even thus hampered, he brings to life the melodic lines which twist and turn in unpredictable ways but always with a sense of purpose. Actual notes are supplemented by those heard only in her subconscious like unspoken words between two souls. The steady pulse of the piece is a heartbeat that captures her own so seamlessly that she's unaware of the way she is caught in its web.

Images come to mind of a summer day when Joel requested that Hagi play for some visiting guests. The then 18-year-old cellist impressed one of the visitors so greatly with his technique that Joel was petitioned to allow the teen to attend a fine music school in Vienna. Saya was envious of the attention paid to Hagi that day and implored Joel to disallow such training as it would take him far from The Zoo. Joel agreed to her demand despite the fact that the gentleman so interested in young Hagi was Johannes Brahms.

Regret is replaced by curiosity as she observes the way he holds the cello, a perfect fit in his embrace. She imagines him holding her just so and bites her lower lip. The fingers of his left hand are nimble as they ply the thick strings, making them sing. She wonders if they could do the same with her. She's startled by the twinge at her core. A warmth envelops her, blood coursing through her veins making her skin tingle. So.

Saya rises, taking quiet, slow steps toward where the man plays. Her breathing has become shallower and with each step closer, her emotions rise. This is unlike her. She's caught between wanting the feelings he arouses in her and pushing them away. If this is what love feels like, maybe they're better off just staying friends. She stops when she is but a few feet in front of him. He is intent, his eyes half closed, focused on nothing but his love for the genius of the music. The prelude drives towards its powerful close. She feels the cadences rise and fall within herself, demanding notice, demanding closure. It's what she wants, too.

He performs the final bars, arpeggios struggling from the prison of earth to the gates of heaven, ending in what feels like a battle between the body and soul, mortal and immortal, with the body cast earthward as the soul enters eternity with a triumphant major chord. She is enraptured by both him and the music that has touched her deeply.

He looks up, caught unawares by her proximity. "Are you alright?" he asks, concern in his eyes. She worries her voice will betray her vulnerability.

"Am I?" she responds, the eddy and swirl of sensation and emotion churning inside making her unsure of her own state of mind. What is it that she wants from him, really?

"You are not making sense," he says. "Perhaps you should sit down again. I will get you something to drink." He stands and moves to place the cello inside its case on the floor. In so doing, the nape of his neck is exposed. In her state of high emotion, the sight triggers in Saya an autonomic response. She is, all at once, a queen standing above her chevalier.

"Hagi," she commands, all disorientation gone. He doesn't question her, but remains genuflecting before her, head bowed. "Look at me," she insists.

He lifts his chin to meet her imperious gaze. Such a beautiful chevalier. Her eyes dart to the place where she feeds. Without a word he turns his head to one side, prepared for her to draw what she requires. Her eyes widen as the irises shift to crimson. The bloodlust hums in her ears and she feels the throttle of that vital fluid in her veins demanding that she take what is rightfully hers. The expectation of satisfaction heightens her need.

She approaches and crouches down, pressing one hand against his shoulder for support while the other draws the collar away from his neck so she may feed. Her fangs descend as she lowers her head and grazes the tender flesh where his neck and shoulder meet then laves it with her tongue, the carotid artery's quick pulse urging her to bite down. She savors the icy cold that grips her just before she strikes. It has been far, far too long.

The razor sharp tips of her fangs sink into his flesh, through muscle and deep into tissue. She knows the initial piercing stings, but he doesn't protest. She feels the subtle tremors that wrack Hagi's body as he waits, motionless. His pain only enhances her pleasure while the taste of him intensifies her lust. All she need do now is suckle until his blood flows into her mouth, satisfying her terrible hunger.

Through the crimson haze that fills her mind she sees the shadow image of another Queen and Chevalier – Diva and Solomon. Solomon's betrayal of her sibling proved that the chevalier's bond was rooted in their oath to serve and not to any physical or mental entrapment. But surely, Diva held this very position as Solomon or his "brothers" submitted to her dark needs just as she is doing now. Just the same. Exactly the same. Exactly.

Saya withdraws and staggers backwards onto her feet, one hand covering her mouth in horror. She breathes heavily, the irises of her eyes vacillating from crimson to brown and back again. Each time her body is jolted as if a live current were being switched on and off.

As Queen, she wants only to dominate her chevalier, using him as she uses her sword to destroy that which she deems worthy of destruction. She recovers herself and sees the remarkable man that has protected her while servile to her whim - by choice. Her emotions shift again and he is no threat to her superiority. His defiance of her petty narcissism when he was a boy could be dismissed. Change again and she's dizzy as she recognizes that he challenged her not out of self-interest, but because of a belief in her goodness. He is no different as a man, if only she gives him the option.

She trembles as the desire to take his blood still pounds through her, very much a bodily need demanding satisfaction. Hagi waits and watches, distressed by her reaction. Is this all she wants from him then? A servant - by his own admission? Has she learned nothing in over a century but how to abuse and to kill? Is her humanity just a by-product of upbringing, a farce that masks her true intentions? Despite all arguments and reassurances to the contrary, is she really so different than her tragic twin?

She flees. Outside, she drops to her knees, leaning forward until her hands are flush to the ground. There, on all fours, she takes in great gulps of air, her body shaking feverishly. She slams the ground with the heel of her hand and weeps aloud as she accepts the unvarnished truth about herself. Beneath the façade of civility and duty, she is as cold, selfish and brutal as Diva ever was.

Her words are strangled as she struggles to speak through the miasma that holds her in its throes. "I will not...do that to you…ever again," she vows through her sobs not knowing if Hagi can hear her or not. But he is there, lifting her up, holding her close even as she seeks to escape. She is off balance, emotions spiraling recklessly as she struggles to make sense of the confusion of wanting him far from her yet closer than ever.

She pushes against his chest with both hands. "Let me go," she demands, her eyes averted. "Hagi," she pleads. "Please." She lifts her eyes to his. "I can't bring you anything but pain."

"I will not leave you."

She shakes her head. "I don't deserve your kindness."

"Saya..." He kisses her brow.

"Or your loyalty." Her cheek.

"I love you," he breathes.

"Or your love-"

He silences her with his mouth on hers.


	5. Gigue

**Fifth Movement**

**Gigue ~ an intricate dance for two; often with a repeated theme.**

There is nothing submissive in the way Hagi pulls Saya against him and takes her, robbing her of breath and power to resist. His duty as chevalier is released by her vow and his desire for her is unfettered. He kisses her roughly, deliberately, completely. He presses with his tongue for access to her mouth and she yields, body heat melting the cold that grips her. This time, she tastes only him and not the blood that ignites her rage. When he kisses her a second time with gentler, albeit rapt attention, she twines both arms around his neck, unwilling to let him go.

The night air is cool against her overheated skin and the scent of him grounds her. Confusion fades as her focus sharpens on the feel of his lips on hers, his arms holding her in place and the singular thought that he does, indeed, love her. It's all that matters. The grotesque life they've been forced to endure may yet transform into something beautiful.

Her breath is uneven as he releases her, turns on his heel and walks away. She's left with her mouth open, incredulous. What just happened? Did she do something wrong? He strides back into the gazebo while she remains in place, eyes wide, unable to think or make any kind of rational decision while the memory of the last few minutes spin in her mind, her lips pulsing and bruised from his kisses.

She reenters the gazebo and covers half the distance to where he stands, his back to the doorway, staring through the glass into the shadowy garden beyond. There are a dozen different questions for which she needs answers. The one she asks comes directly from her frustrated emotions. "What was that? Hagi, tell me. I deserve an answer."

He doesn't turn and his voice is even, but simmers with an anger she hasn't felt directed at her since their youth. "You deserve an answer? Do you even hear yourself, Saya? Whether you realize it or not, what you said out there changes everything." His uncharacteristic attitude demonstrates that truth to perfection.

She's confused and hurt. "Are you saying you want things to stay the same between us? I don't. Whatever the effect on me, I don't want to hurt you any longer."

"Then it might have been better had you left things as they were." She drops her head and tries to discern how he can say such a thing. She doesn't look at him when he speaks again, his emotion contained but still present. "I have spent the last century living for you; fighting for you. A chevalier's duty is to protect and serve; and I have done that for you for a very long time."

She struggles to stay calm. "So now, in hindsight, you resent it? Maybe you would have preferred that I let you die or-" she pauses as the bitter truth rises to her lips and, in a quieter voice tinged with regret adds, "That I never put you in harm's way in the first place." She lifts her head and he has turned towards her. With moonlight as bright as day flooding the room, she sees in his eyes validation of what she has only just come to accept. But for want of a flower… She blinks back bitter tears. "I can't change the past and I'm sorry if you felt shackled by me."

He sighs and when he addresses her again, he is calmer. "I did not feel shackled, but there were times afterwards, Saya, when you were cold, even cruel towards me. Not often, but often enough."

It's true. Still she presses, "What about what you said at the opera house and - just before?"

"That I love you? I still do. Then, as your chevalier, the only thing that mattered was your safety. And now, with those limits lifted, I acted on impulse. I apologize for my impropriety." He moves past her, creating space between them, again.

Limits? She hadn't even considered it. He is free, not only from the blood bond, but from all ties to her. What's more, it's clear that he has no idea how she truly feels. The sudden precariousness of their relationship terrifies her.

His voice is now behind her. "As for where I have been - I was entombed for over three weeks in the rubble of the theater until it was demolished. I could not move and the only thing I could do was think about you. Yet, when I finally escaped you were gone."

His indictment cuts as surely as a blade. She defends with, "You were the one who said to go. Mr. David thought it best. Kai insisted." She turns to find him near his cello. "Hagi, I thought you were lost. I've spent the last month trying to make sense of everything and I couldn't…I can't. Not without you."

"Do not play coy, Saya. It no longer suits you." He lifts his bow from the chair and places it in the case beside the instrument.

Her temper flares at his second parry. She approaches him, her irritation fueling her courage as she glares at him. "Who's being cruel now? You're not the only one whose life has been sacrificed to obligation." Her attitude eases. "I can't bear to lose another person I care about."

He rises slowly and comes to face her. "So," he begins his eyes slightly squinting at her, "What am I to you now?" He lifts his head and begins a slow walk around her, pausing periodically to lean his head closer to hers as he lists, "A bodyguard? A mentor. Ahh, a friend, or," He places an arm around her right shoulder and says in a seductive voice close to her ear, "Perhaps you prefer a friend with benefits? I hear that is acceptable now."

He lifts his arm and completes his round coming to stand before her, arms crossed. His words sting and arouse her at the same time. She accepts his sarcasm as punishment for her sins. If he's angry with her, so be it. She can hold her own. She meets his gaze as he says, "I remember even offering something like that to you quite some time ago. You did not seem interested."

"You were a boy," she counters.

"I grew up. At 21, I was sat down by Amshel Goldsmith who made it quite clear what was expected. He even made light of it and suggested that I bed you by force, if necessary."

The revelation is startling and troubling, but she wants to know. A stillness possesses her. "Go on," she tells him in a calm voice.

His loathing of the man is clear. "That was the extent of his concern for you: his science. Joel was apologetic and left things to me, as he put it. I hoped we might find a way to leave The Zoo, but before that time came, I became your chevalier. What I wanted for myself no longer mattered." He leans in towards her. "I do not regret it, but what I never understood was how you changed towards me."

She glances down at his Chiropteran hand and away. "How many times can I say I'm sorry?"

"Do not say it again. I am no longer at your service." The definitive way he says the phrase sends a frosty chill down her spine. She can't look at him.

"Who are you then? What…are we?" She's willing to accept whatever answer he provides, as long as it means that he doesn't leave her life.

She watches as he picks up the chair he used while playing and sets it beside the divan with enough force to have the sound echo in her ears. "Take your pick," he says indicating with his hand her choice: divan or chair? She chooses the divan and sits down primly, feet together, hands in her lap.

He re-situates the chair directly in front of her and sits down, leaning forward, his arms resting on his thighs, his human hand resting in the Chiropteran. They look at each other and she's suddenly self-conscious about the way he focuses on her. His anger is gone, as well as the air of decorum and predictability to which she is accustomed. In its place is an unknown factor in the man whose thoughts and actions are now only his own. It unnerves and excites her.

She waits for him to say something, to do something, but he does nothing other than hold her gaze, sure and steady. They've never looked at one another in this way and the effect is significant. She's both captured and deterred by his presence. Several minutes pass between them and as time passes, something odd begins to happen.

He changes right in front of her.

The boy that he was and the man he became, the friend and the servant who has fought beside her for so long is suddenly someone she doesn't know. Not in visage or form, but as a separate individual from herself. She imagines the life he could have led without her, the women he might have loved and the children he might have fathered. His life, like hers, had been oh-so carefully manipulated within the Goldschmidts' gilded cage. Tears of empathy fill Saya's eyes, dropping onto her cheeks. Even beyond The Zoo, his existence has been tied to hers. Another man might have become bitter or debauched in her absences yet Hagi is still the person he has always been - intelligent, generous, steadfast. He has always protected her and always will; and so easy on the eyes that she can't grasp how she didn't notice it.

She has spent the better part of a month loving a memory. As such, Hagi was flawless and their dynamic static forever. As a man, he is imperfect and their relationship will be a work in progress. It will be different, of course; but she wants it all - every emotion, every expression, good or bad. She wants to be there for him when he needs something. She wants to comfort him as he has comforted her. She wants his touch when she isn't in mortal danger. She needs him with her always. She doesn't even care if he can read her like a book. She hopes he can. She is in love.

"Can I ask you something?" she says sotto voce, a hitch in her voice.

His brows lift. "Ask."

"Am I pretty?"

His brows knit for a moment. "This is what you wish to ask?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I don't know." She is awkward in this newly cast space where they are equals. "It's hard for me to see myself as I really am. I just want to be an ordinary girl who worries about ordinary things. Someone recently said that I was pretty. I want to be pretty, for you."

A slow smile comes over him. Why did he just do that? She'd forgotten how he looked when he smiled and it's dangerous. He turns his head away and then a chuckle escapes him. She's stymied by his atypical reaction. But then, what is typical any more? He pushes his chair back with his feet, then stretches out his long legs, ankles crossed. He leans back and laces his fingers behind his head. It's a casual pose that is unlike his past self, but perhaps it's time they both entered the present. The way he looks at her makes her feel both loved and desired, adding to the rising sexual tension she feels between them. "Saya, you are much more than pretty; you are beautiful."

She places her hand against her chest and he nods. A shy smile lights her face, the first she's felt all evening. He's shaking his head at her. "So…ummm...I -uh… She's completely baffled by her inability to string a thought together and growing ever more conscious of the fact that all she really wants to do is crawl into his lap and kiss his mouth. Maybe if she acts on impulse…

She rises before she even completes the thought and stops. She doesn't want to appear insincere or too forward. Why is this so hard? She can defy the ravages of time or slice a monster in two but she can't find the right words to tell him that she loves him? Stupid. Just say it.

"I- I love you," she says simply. There. Why does he look uncertain?

"Pardon. What- did you just say? I think I misunderstood." He's giving her a chance to recant, just in case.

She gathers her courage and crosses the short distance between them, their eyes never leaving one another. He straightens slightly, but she shakes her head at him and he stops, dropping his hands into his lap and drawing back one leg. She feels the color rise in her cheeks as she steps into the vee between his thighs and leans in at the waist, placing one hand on his shoulder. She notes the rise and fall of his chest and the way he swallows.

She looks down into his face. "I love you," she tells herself as much as him. "You, Haji - who you were and who you are. I don't know why it's taken me so long to realize it. Maybe it was finally losing you. And I don't know what it means for us, but..." She holds herself together, fearing and craving the intense emotion she feels. Her other hand gently presses against his cheek as she drops her head down slowly, eyelids closing. His warm shallow breath mingles with hers. With her lips just touching his she entreats, "Stay, please, " then presses her closed lips to his.

With one arm he circles her closer, pulling her against him and onto his knee, tipping her back so he is dominant. She wraps an arm around him and presses her palm against the broad expanse of his back. He briefly breaks their kiss to change the angle of his mouth on hers, his lips parting to take her upper lip between his own, his tongue gently probing. A soft mewl sounds in the back of her throat as she opens herself to him and allows herself to taste him in a thoroughly new way. His stronger hand presses her against him, though he takes care to sheathe the talons while the other slides beneath her jacket to rest against the center of her back. "I will never leave you unless you send me away," he murmurs against the side of her mouth, his breathlessness evidence of her affect on him. She expects the unbridled passion he exhibited earlier. Instead, he is gentle, lingering with his lips upon hers before taking them again and again, his tenderness with her a powerful drug.

She has been clutching the fabric of his jacket at the shoulder but she needs to feel his skin under her touch. Her fingers loosen and slide upwards along the curve of his neck to trace the sensitive outer curve of his ear to the pulse point just behind the lobe. Her nails gently stroke along the back of his neck, tugging loose a stray tendril that she wraps around her index finger as if to possess him as Delilah did Samson. The fingers of his hand at her back slide downwards, following the curve that runs from the small of her back, over her hip and the outside of her thigh to her knee. They pause, then begin to retrace their path in the opposite direction, slipping beneath the insubstantial fabric of the dress she wears, her body tensing with anticipation with each inch. His hand comes to rest on the turn of her hip, fingers splayed but still. All, except his thumb which continues to caress her skin in a lazy back and forth movement that is subtle, but maddening.

They pause in their pursuit of one another and she manages to loosen the blue ribbon that holds back his hair. It flutters to the ground and black tresses fall forward onto his shoulders. "Anything else you wish to undo?" he asks with a smile at one corner of his mouth. She's taken aback, but he kisses her brow saying, "Just tell me what you want."

"Everything I want is right here. What do you want?"

His eyes meet hers. "Only you."

A thousand images flood through her mind, images of them together throughout their long passage through time. Through the good times and the bad, pulled together or torn apart, they are united - two hearts with the same beat just as she has always known. Incarnations have come and gone and, each time, it is Hagi waiting for her, waiting for her to catch up to where he has always been. It has taken her so long to reach this place. But she is here.

They are here.

The tears that shine in her eyes are those of bliss, something she has never experienced. The feeling is breathtaking and in his eyes is recognition that it is he who has given this to her. Not just a smile, but joy. "Yes," she says assuredly before sliding to her feet and grabbing his hand, pulling him onto his. She tugs him towards the divan, looking back at him, a soft laugh bubbling up from her at the mild look of incredulity on his face. She grabs his other hand and pulls him towards her, her eyes inviting as she steps back, stopping only when she feels the back of the divan against her legs.

She looks up at him at a slant. "You know you're not allowed to leave my side ever again."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, that is so. In fact, I can assure you that even without a chevalier's oath, you'll want to stick around."

He arches a brow. "Do not make promises you cannot keep, Saya."

"Try me."

She reaches up on her toes and takes his face in her hands and kisses him. He takes her in his arms as he did earlier, only this time they hold one another. His voice is deeper than usual as he tells her, "I want to remember everything about you this way." She is unable to reply with her heart so full and she will deny him nothing. All around, moonlight lends a silvery luster to everything it touches but she sees only him. They don't have a lot of time, but there is time enough for love.

The sensual sounds of their coupling: breaths, groans, sighs, moans – create a distinct counterpoint. Harmony of mouths, hands and hips create sweet music as their bodies play upon one another. He is attentive and patient with her, drawing from her a passionate song that ends in a climax that surpasses the satisfaction of any blood fests that have preceded. Thereafter, his delight becomes her goal. She pushes herself past the point of common sense until his cry of satisfaction is released to the heavens and he shudders, his completion achieved. Utterly spent, Saya drifts into sleep even as Hagi withdraws, the last thing she feels being a feather-light kiss on her cheek. She dreams only of them.


	6. Coda

**Coda - a passage which brings a piece to conclusion.**

Sunrise is late in autumn, but it comes too soon for Saya. She awakens alone, covered by Hagi's jacket. She breathes a sigh of sated contentment and draws it closer around her, the satin facing soft against her skin. 'So simple yet not is love,' she thinks. She is no longer his mother nor his lover, as her species defined the terms. She is just his.

The cello is still in its case and she wants to hear him play again, curious if his ability to raise memories in her has been diminished. And what of her vow to refuse his blood through direct feeding? Will that have any long term effect, especially upon post-awakening? In her solitude, she realizes that this perfect alteration in their relationship may have imperfect implications, but she pushes all worries aside. Time enough later, much later, to sort things out.

She dresses and heads into the garden to find him. She stops to breathe in the smell of the sea and the scent of flowers. The air is filled with the sound of birdsong while creeping morning glories cover the ground, their pink blooms open wide to the cerulean sky to capture the brief morning sun that warms her skin, too. Somehow, the world has become brighter.

Hagi is not there so she enters the concealed entry at the rear of the crypt and follows the shadowy stone walkway that leads to the front chamber where she was "born." The place is as she remembers it with one difference. All traces of her old cocoon and its sticky tendrils are gone.

In its place is a pedestal upon which rests a bronze coffin covered in intricate scrolling vines of gold ending in small roses. The lid is open. She approaches and sees that it's completely lined in pleated and tufted ivory silk embroidered with seed pearls that follow the same curliqued pattern as the exterior. The small pillow at one end is edged in antique Venetian lace, a single rose embroidered on its center in genuine gold thread that also mimics the shape of the blooms on the exterior.

"It's for you," Hagi says from behind her. She feels his approach and when he is close enough, she leans back into his arms with a smile.

"It's beautiful."

"I couldn't bear it if I couldn't find you again," he says into her hair.

"Kai won't let that happen."

"I'm counting on it."

"You'll tell him that, right?" Silence ensues. She finally turns and looks at him, worry written on her face. "Right?"

"I trust that Kai will bring you here if you ask it of him, but I can not stay and no one can know that I am still alive."

"But why?" His face is serious and she doesn't like that as much as the happier person she's only just unveiled.

"I ask that you trust me on this."  But she doesn't understand as she embraces him. They hold one another in silence, neither one willing to be the first to pull away. "Promise me," he insists his voice low, but firm.

After so much pain and horror together, it will be this brief interlude of happiness that will sustain him through the decades while she is unaware of the world's great changes. The wait will be harder for him than for her and she will not dishonor his love, his lessons or his sojourn, whatever it may be.

Yet she loves him and farewell is hard to bear. She looks into the eyes that have watched over her without ceasing and will always do so. She doesn't want to cry, but the tears fall and she can not stop them. Through them she avers, "I promise not to say anything. I promise to have Kai bring me here when the time comes. I promise myself to you…Hagi, my only love." Their union is sealed with a kiss.

She turns and walks away from him then, her head held high even as her heart breaks.

She doesn't look back.

She isn't afraid of the future any longer.


End file.
